


i'm fine

by you_get_to_exhale_now_cyrus



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: 1st is jsut jonah, Self-Hatred, but 2nd is also with cyrus, jonah angst, jonah is just miserable, like so many tears, self projection? idk her, the boy needs a hug, the relationship is just mentioned, this is in 2 parts, writing to vent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 01:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16007633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_get_to_exhale_now_cyrus/pseuds/you_get_to_exhale_now_cyrus
Summary: Jonah Beck is completely fine with his life and his relationships. Except that he's not. But nobody needs to know that.





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this when i was feeling awful and needed a way to get rid of my feelings. thus, an angsty fic was born. i was gonna pick a character from andi mack and project, but honestly? jonah probably feels like this too.
> 
> send me requests / stalk me on tumblr @you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus

Trapped. Drowning. Small. That’s how Jonah would describe how he felt. Worst of all? He couldn’t even really pinpoint a reason, one specific _event_ that caused him to feel like an elephant was standing on his chest. All he knew was that he was crying, his tears staining the lined paper that sat on his desk. The only thing he could do now was write; let the words from the pen flow in an attempt to release some of his emotions.

“Garbage,” he mumbled, writing it down angrily, “I feel like garbage. I’m either totally invisible and people act like I don’t exist, or I’m the center of attention for reasons I don’t want to be,” he continued, his pen digging so harshly into the paper that it made a few holes. But Jonah didn’t care, he barely even noticed. All he was focused on was getting more and more blue marks on the page.

“All my life I’ve tried to hard to try and prove to people that I am worthy of something. That I’m not just some average kid,” he could feel himself start to choke up, the familiar feeling rising in his chest like waves crashing down.

“With every attempt I make, I seem to be taking one step backwards. I feel so suffocated, trapped, small. Like I’m drowning in this vast ocean, and I can’t see the land. All I see is more water on the horizon, hope seeming bleaker by the moment,” he murmured under his breath, his hand shaking as he continued to write.

“I’m some sort of perfect sunbeam in people’s eyes. My smile could light up a room, they say,” he spat out with bitterness, at this point openly crying, “But when I show emotion that isn’t happiness, that’s just me being weak. It’s me acting like the hormonal teenager that I am. I’m too young to be treated with respect, but too old to be a child, so which is it? Am I am adult or not?” he growled, the pen ceasing to work. Jonah angrily scratched the paper with it, tearing holes in it, until he finally decided to just grab a new pen, a black one.

“One wrong step and all hell breaks loose. They start yelling and screaming, telling me that I’m going to amount to nothing, and ‘am I listening to them? Do I realize the severity of my situation?’. They act like I already don’t know that. Like it’s new information that I’m going to end up being a failure,” he choked out, reaching the bottom of the page and grabbing a new one, the tears blurring some of the ink.

“There are better days. Days where I feel almost normal. _Almost_. Like I can talk to them about anything. Like if I wasn’t a perfect person, I’d still be able to function and get through the day. Any hope that I had is slowly starting to disappear,” he stopped for a moment, steadying his breathing. How long had his hands been shaking? Had he been crying this whole time? Why was he breathing so hard. Thinking about all these questions was not helping his cause, so he opted for trying to finish his piece.

“I-I wish I didn’t have to pretend. I’ve gotten pretty good at it, what with all my practice,” he wrote snarkily, wiping his tears with his sleeve, “I hate myself for having a crush on Cyrus,” he whispered, fearing someone would hear him even though the house was empty. “As much as I tell myself I’m happy he’s dating TJ, I can’t bring myself to like that. To accept that. Because I like him so much that is physically hurts to see them together. Every hand hold, shoulder tap, high five, and kiss makes me shatter, and I spend so much time trying to piece myself back together, only to find myself broken again. Why I keep hoping something might change? I don’t know,” he choked out with a watery smile.

“Nobody knows about it, that I’m bisexual. My parents would hate me. Heck, they don’t even recognize it as a valid identity. I tried to bring up the topic, but they shut me down and sent me away to my room. I live in constant fear and I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel,” he sighed, “I can’t see this getting any better, no matter what anyone says. This is just my situation. Nothing’s gonna change. I’m trapped, and that’s all that I’ll ever be,” he finished with a harsh period, dropping his pen and examining his work.

His penmanship had declined as he continued to write, probably as a result of his hands shaking violently. Blotchy spots populated the bottom of the first page and most of the second page, leaving a few words blurred and unreadable. He let a shaky sob escape his lips, taking a deep breath to try and compose himself. Folding the letter neatly into squares, he tucked it away in his box hidden in his bottom drawer, and locked it. Because nobody needed to see it. Nobody needed to see that Jonah Beck wasn’t okay. That Jonah Beck needed help. That he felt like he was screaming but wasn’t making a sound. That he was falling, and was never going to hit the ground.

Jonah Beck did not need other people thinking he was weak. Because he wasn’t weak. He was broken, far beyond repair, but he didn’t dare ask for help. That would imply that he’s weak, which he’s not. He was fine, he was doing fine, truly.

“I’m fine,” he told himself before he collapsed onto the bed and sobbed into his pillow. He was fine.


	2. chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to part 2, aka where things are hopefully resolved. hopefully. :D
> 
> send me requests / stalk me on tumblr @you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus

If you asked Jonah how why he was sitting in his room with Cyrus, the two of them looking through old photos, he would say he had no idea. He was navigating his day on autopilot and when he finally snapped out of that phase, he found himself sprawled on his bed with his best friend, looking through photos from elementary school.

“Aw! I remember that party! My mom got mad at me for getting chocolate all over my clothes, but I told her that I could just eat it,” Cyrus chuckled, scanning the photos, “you were so adorable as a child,”

Butterflies rose in Jonah’s stomach, the small compliment from the boy providing a tingling sensation from head to toe. It sucked enough that he still had lingering feelings for a boy who would never date him, but the compliments made it a thousand times worse. It just reminded him of what he wanted it to be, between them.

“I’ve got some more in my drawer,” he pointed at it, pushing all the photos into one pile and neatly inserting them back into their folder.

“I’ll get them,” Cyrus offered, rolling off of the bed and kneeling down beside Jonah’s desk, pulling open the bottom drawer. Inside, he saw a small box with a lock, and a key next to it. Figuring this is where Jonah kept his photos, he unlocked the box and was instead greeted by an array of papers, folded up and crammed inside.

“I don’t see any photos in here,” he muttered, sifting through the box. Jonah propped himself up and nearly had another panic attack right then and there; Cyrus was looking through his box of his most personal writings. Most importantly, his most recent writing.

“Wait, no please!” Jonah squeaked, falling off of the bed and lunging for the papers, but Cyrus already had one in his hand.

The room was spinning, as the blue and green walls started to swirl together. The athlete’s breathing sped up, become quick, shaky bursts of oxygen to his lungs. Cyrus calling his name barely registered, the sounds becoming muddled and echoing off of the walls.

“Jonah!” Cyrus practically screamed, putting his hands on his best friend’s shoulder, “hey, are you okay?” he asked, his eyes flooded with worry.

Slowly, things started to come back into focus. His head still felt like it weighed a a ton, but the walls were back to their normal state, and he could register what Cyrus was saying.

“Please,” he begged, shrinking into himself, “you’ll hate me if you read that. I-I can’t have that,” he croaked, putting his head in his hands.

“I could never hate you, Jonah. Never, you hear me?” Cyrus promised him, slinging an arm around him and staying like that for a few moments. If Jonah’s heart wasn’t racing before, it sure was now.

Cyrus neatly unfolded the paper, first noticing the rips and tears in the lined sheet, and then the blurred sections later on. As he read the paper, Jonah tore himself from his touch, pulling his knees into his chest and putting his head on his knees.

 _It’s over. He’s never going to talk to you again because you’re a pathetic waste of space. You really think he’s still going to be your friend? After this? He probably just thinks you’re dramatic. That’s what your parents always said,_ Jonah screamed at himself, failing to fight back tears.

After what felt like forever, Cyrus refolded the paper and placed it aside, sitting in silence for a moment before he spoke.

“I’ve never seen that side of you,” he whispered shakily, biting down hard on his lip to keep from crying.

Jonah scoffed, rubbing his eyes furiously. “If it makes you feel any better, no one has,” he replied, squeezing his hands together, “I-I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore, or even talk to me, I get it,” he sighed, starting to get up as Cyrus put a hand on his knee.

“Why on earth would you even say that?” Cyrus croaked, a few tears slipping down his face, “Because you used to have a crush on me? So what? Jonah, I care about you, like, so much, you don’t even know,” he murmured, putting his hand on Jonah’s. “I need you to answer me honestly; do you need help?”

 _Help_. That cursed word that Jonah always failed to utter. Because in his mind, help meant weak. It meant that you couldn’t handle your problems on your own. Jonah mind screamed at him to say ‘no’. To say that he was fine and that he didn’t need anyone. But sitting here with Cyrus, the both of them in tears after his letter was read, what did he have to lose. The words died on the tip of his tongue, so he merely nodded his head, collapsing into Cyrus and sobbing. It was worse than yesterday when he was alone on his bed. This was humiliating, but he couldn’t _stop_ crying.

Cyrus wept a few silent tears, but stayed put, rubbing his friend’s back and whispering “it’s okay” and “I’m here for you” every now and then.

“Cyrus,” Jonah croaked, his words muffled by the fabric of his friend’s shirt, “I-I feel weak. Pathetic. I mean, therapy, really? I-I thought I was okay,” he admitted, leaning his head onto Cyrus shoulder.

“You are anything but weak and pathetic, Jonah. You’re one of the strongest people I know. You kept this hidden for what seems like years, and you always came off as such a positive person. I-I never knew that you were struggling. I’m sorry I didn’t notice,” Cyrus mustered, putting his hand on Jonah’s knee.

“I’m really lucky to have you in my life,” Jonah sighed, burying his face into Cyrus’ sweatshirt, feeling his heart rate begin to pick up a little.

“We’re both lucky,” the boy replied, “and for the record, you don’t need to be jealous of me and TJ. You’re going to find some cute guy or girl and you’re going to sweep them off their feet!” he exclaimed, earning a muted chuckle from Jonah.

“Thanks Cy. You always know what to say,” he paused, “y-you’re not going to tell anyone about this, right?”

“Of course not,” he assured him, hearing Jonah sigh out of relief, “as for therapy, I would imagine that you wouldn’t want to talk to my parents, and I get that. Talking to your friend’s parents about your deepest secrets is not really something I’d imagine you’d like to do,” he chuckled, “but I know a lot of therapists, thanks to my parents. I can text you their numbers, if you’d like?”

“That’d be great. You’re a lifesaver,” Jonah breathed, feeling his heart rate steady for the first time in what felt like years. For the first time in forever, Jonah Beck was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)) i live for the idea of jonah going to therapy, poor boy! what did you think? leave a comment, i reply to each one!
> 
> like, comment, and stay docious magocious!

**Author's Note:**

> i know, i know, you're crying and you're mad at me. don't worry, there's another part, so breathe easy. what did you think? leave a comment, i reply to each one!
> 
> like, comment, and stay docious magocious!


End file.
